


The Last Human

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [50]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Dystopian Future, F/M, Humans are extinct, Hurt Jughead, Nurse Betty, One Shot, Sick Jughead, bughead - Freeform, caring betty, doctor betty, healer betty, human jughead, jughead is a medical marvel, like I don't even know, magic betty, preslash, this is really weird, very much preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: Betty Cooper, the only Healer with knowledge of human beings; an extinct, ancient species.But that hardly matters. After all, they're extinct.Enter Jughead Jones: stage left.





	The Last Human

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Dedicated to HufflepuffBetty, the only thing that keeps me sane on rough days. She's a gem, guys. Legit.

Betty's halfway through a very good book about how to care for plants under extreme conditions when Veronica bursts into the room. 

She's wheezing; breathless and splotchy in the ways that Veronica never usually is. Her pristine raven hair is frayed, and her eyes are wide; rimmed with sweat smudged mascara. She skids to a stop a few feet away and stares at Betty desperately; gulping in air. Betty rushes to stand and aid her friend; laying a calming hand on Veronica's shoulder; bewildered and frightened by her anxious state. The books falls with a thump to the floor; page lost. "V!" Betty exclaims worriedly, curling her fingers into her friend's purple sweater. "What's wrong? Is everyone okay?" She tries to keep her voice level, even though she's tempted to become hysterical at the urgency of it all. 

Veronica shakes her head, still wheezing. "A human- Archie found a- a  _human!"_

Betty's hand drops to her side and she freezes. It can't be. It can't be. 

Her legs move her without her consent, and she's following Veronica out of the room down the corridor of the hospital. Her mind is racing. A human. An actual human being. Humans are extinct. Humans don't exist anymore. There's only Healers, like Betty and Veronica, or Scavengers like Archie and Toni. Humans died out a long time ago. Humans don't exist. Soon, she and Veronica break into a simultaneous run and Betty glances outside as they race past the windows. The ferocious lushness and greenery reminds her of the ludicrousness of it all. No human could survive the conditions outside. Without the Scavenger's powers to move things telepathically or their increased speed, without the Healer's ability to seal wounds and immunity to disease, there's no way anything could survive out there. 

They emerge in the South Wing, and everyone there is on edge; pacing and whispering in hushed tones. They all look up when Betty comes in and Toni rushes over to her. 

She's bleeding from a deep gauge just underneath her magenta hairline. Betty reaches forward to press her hand against it, and feels the skin stitch up under her powers. Toni stares up at her; trembling. "A human," she whispers, and Betty nods; swallowing thickly. "You have the training, right?" 

Oh.  _Shit._ Betty suddenly understands why the emergency has come her way. "I had theoretical training," she says; aware to all the people listening in. "About human beings in Med School. But it was...it was highly theoretical," she tries to clarify. She was in a lot of advanced classes, and study of ancient species was one of them. It was a rare course, and she's not surprised that she's the only one here with any knowledge of it. 

The dark skinned girl looks up at her, and jerks away from Betty's healing. The blood has reduced to a small dribble down her face. "Betty," she says seriously, "you know how to handle it, don't you? We need to keep him alive." There's desperation in her voice. 

Instead of answering, Betty instead looks around the wing. The waiting area is full to bursting with different Healers and Scavengers, but she recognises all of them. "Where is...it?" 

"A male," Veronica fills in beside her. 

Toni nods. "Archie, Cheryl and a few other Scavengers went to get him. We found him passed out by the river. We weren't sure what it was at first; he looks hurt really bad but he was breathing. We wanted to bring a Healer out because we didn't know enough first aid between us but Archie and Cheryl said they could get him here easier without a crowd. I didn't wanna argue, I was...it was weird. Creepy." She sounds a little dazed, and Betty peers into her eyes worriedly; checking for a concussion. Toni scowls and ducks away, but Veronica gets Betty's attention. 

"We've set up one of our best private rooms," she says, sounding a little bit more composed than she did before. "We've put everything you might need in there. We've got a bathtub, and all the medical supplies we could think of. As for food, we weren't sure..." she trails off, looking at Betty expectantly; and the blonde can suddenly feel the heavy weight of everyone in the room on her. She realises then, that this is going to be her responsibility. If the human dies, it will surely be her fault. It's how she'll go down in history. 

She takes a deep breath, readying herself, and thinks back to her classes. "Rudimentary vegetables," she says thoughtfully, "nothing complex. They used to eat carrots and stuff, right from the ground. Apples too, from trees. As for protein...something called beef?"

Veronica and Toni frown at her. 

She grapples. "It's like...it's like forma. Let's not risk it for now. Just the basic vegetables and hot water. I'll do broth mostly, I think. Do you have blankets? We'll need a lot of them." 

She ran remember it now. She can remember Mrs Grundy, a kind, elderly woman, informing her. " _Human beings are very different, but of course, one of their main differences is that they were homeotherms. Do you understand, dear? Whereas now we can work at any temperature, human beings maintained an internal environment. If it was cold outside, they would become very anxious, and needed to keep warm. If it was very hot, they became very lethargic and needed to bathe often to keep cool. Our ancestors were very intelligent beings, and they knew this and regulated it as best as they could."_

It's hard to imagine that as anything other than theory. When it's cold outside, their skin and hair just becomes a little bit darker to absorb more heat, and when it's hot, they all get a bit lighter. The thought of just not changing is...it makes her shudder a little. 

Everyone seems relieved that she's displayed some level of knowledge, and Veronica is hurriedly giving orders to a crowd of young Healers to get everything together. Betty's starting to sweat with anxiety. What will he look like? How old is he? Weren't human beings incredibly fragile if they were too young or too old? She chews on her bottom lip and whispers quietly to Veronica. "V,I have some old textbooks in my room. Under my botany texts. On Old Species and Forgotten Lives, will you..?"

Veronica nodded subtly, sliding away and back down the halls towards their rooms. Betty begins to wring her hands nervously; watching as Toni continues to bark orders at a few people. She feels restless in a way she wasn't at all a few minutes ago. Back when she was just enjoying her book and thinking about trying to grow some sunflowers on the roof. Now there's a life, an extinct life, resting in her hands. 

The doors burst open with a gush of wind and Cheryl glides in like a ferocious beauty; the wind whipping at her hair. Archie comes in behind her, and everyone stares at the floating figure between them. The two of them are obviously holding him up telepathically, and he hangs limp and lifeless in the air. Betty's breath hitches in her throat. He's covered with blood and dirt; so thick that she can smell the coppery rust of him. He's in tattered clothes and looks more like an animal than anything she can recognise. Everyone's standing up to get a better look, but Cheryl does an admirable job of keeping them away. Archie looks exhausted, nearly buckling under the strain. They're clearly holding him as softly, but securely as they can. "Which way, Betty?" He gasps, and she bristles; steadying her shoulders as she decides to take the reigns of her charge. 

"Follow me." She instructs, as she marches towards the private suite. 

* * *

 

Soon, Betty is alone with the human in the private suite. 

She doesn't know how her life came to this. 

Veronica has done a stand up job, though. The room is beautiful, and furnished with everything she could possibly need. There's also a brass bathtub in the corner, and large set of windows looking out over the rolling fields and scarlet sunset. There are blankets and fresh sheets, and cupboards full of medicine and grubby, basic looking food. She tightens her ponytail, her heart racing. She goes over to the bathtub and starts filling it up, setting the thermometer beside it. Humans don't like cold water, she remembers that. The sound of the bubbling water soothes her a little, and she goes over to where her books are stacked up. 

 _Human Beings: Our forgotten ancestors, The Last Species, An Old Species, Forgotten Lives_ and  _The Diet and Lifestyle of the Human Being_ are all piled up neatly on the small wooden cupboard. She fingers the spines, a little bit eager at the prospect of re-reading them. She hasn't touched them in such a long time, not since her undergraduate days, and if she ignores the fact that she'll have to read them with the intent of using the knowledge practically for the first time ever, it could be fun. Once the water reaches the brim, she yanks the brass taps shut and dips her fingers into the water. 

It's uncomfortably warm, so presumably perfect for a human being. 

She lays out towels and blankets and a fresh gown for him to be put into. She lays out cloths and soap and arranges the little mug alongside the tub. After she's done everything she can think to do, including rolling up her sleeves and tying her apron around her, she looks towards the bed. The one place in the room her eyes have been avoiding. 

He's still there.

Breathing loudly, laboredly, his chest rising and falling. He's a mound of blood and dirt and he looks like a monster to frighten children. She's shaking as she reaches for the bed. She's afraid. But there's a whole hospital of people relying on her, so she shelves her fear for now, and wheels the bed over towards the bathtub. She's thought, obviously, whether she should try to heal him or wash him first. But she can hardly make him out beneath it all, so she has to wash him. Reaching for a pair of scissors, she cuts off whatever looks like fabric, but she still can't see the body beneath. The cloth falls away with each snip, but there's just layers of mud; inches thick at least, and she wonders how he's even been surviving out there. 

She eases him into the water; the bed allowing her to slide his form in.

His body dips beneath the surface and she arranges him so his torso rests against the back of the tub; his legs stretched out in front of him. 

She starts at the feet. Feet aren't dangerous. Using the pink flannel, she begins gently rubbing at his soles and arches. The mud comes away surprisingly easily, and she's surprised by the fleshy, pink skin that's revealed on the base of his foot. It's familiar. It looks like her feet, like their feet, like normal feet. Emboldened by the discovery, she continues until the base of his foot is revealed. The flannel is now streaked with dirt, but she continues on to his ankles and up to his knees. She laughs in surprise. His calfs look normal. They're much, much skinnier once all the mud is off of them. Inches and inches of build up has been scraped away, but now she can see a perfectly formed calf. 

She repeats the motion on the other leg; her face already flushed with exertion. She carries on excitedly; right to- where she gauges- is midway up his thighs. Then she sets the flannel down and tries to heal the number of scrapes she's found. The wounds have long since stopped bleeding, but they heal just as easily as the wounds of Scavengers and Healers. More so, in fact. The cuts and slices into his skin disappear under the glow and attention of her feminine fingers until the skin is smooth and flawless. 

After she's done, she turns her attention to his arms and hands. From shoulder to wrist she works, and her heart is thudding in her ears when she gets to his hands. 

They're beautiful hands. Normal hands. As normal as Archie's hands, as her own hands. With nimble fingers and calloused tips. They're covered with abrasions and scrapes; so she curls both of her hands around them, now completely wrinkled with water, and watches as his hand heals. And then, because she can't help it, she twines their fingers together. 

She laughs, and it's only by identifying the throaty croak of her laugh, that she realises she's crying. This is amazing. It's a scientific discovery, it's a revival of something that was once lost, now found. His fingers don't curl back around hers, they just lie limp in her grasp, but he's warm and alive. She can hear his pulse; a little shaky, but steady. 

With fresh, excited zeal, she continues her work. 

It takes a few more hours to uncover his torso. But she manages it. The water is thick and brown and she starts draining it, still rubbing his skin as sludges fall viscously down the drain. She's revealed the smooth planes of his chest and so far, she hasn't found any physical differences between him and them. It's a little unnerving. She resolutely does not blush as she works his private area. She is a professional and she's had to do this to members of her own species and she's done so successfully. There's less dirt and muck there anyway, and she cleans the area gently, but thoroughly. 

He looks just like them in that department too. Just like their males. 

Once the water's drained, she turns on the little shower head, and starts washing down his body with one hand, and healing any scrapes and cuts she missed with the other. She has to manoeuvre him forward so she can work on his back, but all the dirt has been loosened and falls off thickly in thumps onto the floor of the tub. His back is lean, wiry muscle, just like his arms. She wipes down the tub, getting rid off all the dirt, and then she turns her attention to his face. 

She should have started there, really. To make sure his breathing wasn't any more hindered than it should have been, but she'd been scared. Petrified, even. 

She's less so now. Not now that he looks so...non threatening. He's very slight. She could take him in a fight. Not that she ever would. Not to something so precious. 

She soaks a new cloth, and starts working at his neck. Beneath the blood and the muck, exposes the long tendons and sharp collarbones of his neck. And then a chin. She's especially careful around his mouth, smoothing the cloth around his lips. They're pink; cupids bows, and she traces up his jaw to his ears. She just uses her hands for his eyes and nose. His skin is so soft to the touch she nearly can't bear it. She heals as she goes- the split lip, the cut on the brow of his nose. 

As she starts to realise that this man, with his sharp jaw and dark eyes and pink lips, is astoundingly handsome, she starts to wash his hair. It's a deep, midnight blue, and a little shaggy. She slides her fingers through it, working it until it's as soft and smooth as his skin. It's strangely intimate. Once he's clean of debris, she gets the bars of soap, and sets about making him smell like lavender and disinfectant. Her fingers work into all the knots of his muscles; methodical and tactile. She's certain humans are creatures of touch, like them. He needs this reassurance. 

It's pitch black outside when she realises she's done. He's shivering in his sleep and she nearly scrambles for the towels. 

She towels him off as carefully as she can- remembering that a human being's head is especially sensitive, and it needs extra care to ensure it's dry- and then she struggles to lift him back up onto the bed. He's significantly lighter now, without all the pounds of dirt, and she gets him into the hospital gown, before pushing him back gently into the pillows. She layers a number of blankets over him, until the shivering stops, and his lips part. His breathing is easier now, and there's a healthy, rosy blush to his cheeks. She pushes the bed back into position; taking extra care to be quiet as she cleans everything up. She ends up throwing away all the flannels, and the soap she's used has been worked to crumbs. 

It takes a lot of scrubbing for the copper bath to shine again, but when she's done, she feels good. She stands; her joints aching, and looks over at the bed. 

If she didn't know, she wouldn't know. He looks just like them. There's no physical difference between their species. His hair is a dark contrast to the white pillow and his pale skin. He's handsome. Beautiful, even. Sleeping peacefully. An unruly, wavy lock lies strewn across his forehead. Stunning. He's going to be okay. 

She did that. A large slither of pride soaks through her. She did that. She did that. She's drained and exhausted but she did that. 

She's nearly dead on her feet, but she manages to set up the IV with some base nutrients, pricking his skin and apologising quietly to him even though he can't hear her. Then she places the NG tube into his nostrils and hooks it over his ears. Her fingers shake as they brush over his lobes and tickle his hair, they can't help but linger over his skin. He must be about her age, she thinks, as she leans over him. Close enough that they could kiss. His eyelashes curl against the cusp of his cheek, and he's got three beauty marks against his jaw. 

She dimly thinks she ought to go back to her room and sleep, but she falls asleep on the sofa in the corner before she can even think to turn off the light. 

She dreams of how his lips might feel against hers. She dreams of his hands in her hair. She dreams of a long ago until finally, she doesn't dream at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write quite a bit more to this, but I don't know how! So, if you think you can do it, you have my permission to take this story and fly with it! If you think you can give me instruction and inspiration, do so in the comments or hit me up at my tumblr at typing123 
> 
> love you guys 
> 
> mwah x


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